


Jan's Journeys

by dimon



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Death, Gen, third person limited perspective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4796180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimon/pseuds/dimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the Dragonborn, Jan, from the point of view of the Jan themself and other characters.</p><p>Starting off in Helgen, Jan, a young Altmer scholar from Chorrol finds themself captured and sent to the chopping block, having been mistaken for a rebel.</p><p>Or perhaps that Imperial Captain is just an asshole.  Probably that. Like 95% that.</p><p>Rating is subject to change and the story progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up

Jan woke to the feeling of their body jostling back and forth, their back(and their backside) repeatedly smacking into a rickety wooden surface. They heard the clopping of hooves and wooden wheels across cobble.

They opened their eyes to… their hair. They shook the thick, brown front bangs out of their eyes and saw an overcast, perfectly slate-grey sky and frost tipped pines. They attempted to move around, only to find that their arms were bound.

_‘What the hell…?’_ they thought foggily, _‘Where am I…?’_

“Hey, you.” a voice said. Jan looked up, and for the first time realized they were not alone in the rickety cart. Across from them in the cart was a blond nord man, with long hair and a single braid, wearing some type blue sash over his armor.

Jan looked about the cart, seeing that there were two other people bound on the seats. One was a brown haired man with a filthy face and threadbare clothing. The other was a blond man in dark finery  and a gag… wait.

Why was this man gagged?

Oh, that other guy’s still talking.

“… same as us, and that thief over there.” the blond gestured to the brown haired man with a jerk of his head. Jan felt like they’d mixed something. 

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along!” The man seemed to be fairly riled up, though given he was tied up on a cart going gods know where, Jan couldn’t really blame him. “Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!”

He looked over at Jan, his eyes pleading (though Jan had no idea for what. They were tied up too. They couldn’t help.) “You there... You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” the blond man said, probably trying to sound wise.

Stormcloaks… that sounded really familiar to Jan, but they couldn’t quite place it… everything was so fuzzy…

‘ _Do I have a concussion? Oh gods, I hope I don’t have a concussion.’_ They shook their head and blinked. Their head didn’t hurt too much, but…

“Watch your tongue.” The blond said sternly. Oh gods, they’re still talking? “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!” 

High king. Okay, Jan could actually place that. Ruler of Skyrim. They knew what that was. Wait.

Ulfric Stormcloak.

High King.

Oh shit.

“Oh gods…” Jan whispered under their breath. 

“Hm. So you can talk then, elf.” the blond man said. Jan shot the man a glare, and started glancing around to see if they could catch their bearings.

The horse-drawn carts began to pull into the gates of a walled city, and Jan heard someone whom they assumed was a soldier call out, “General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!”

Headsman. _‘Oh gods, oh gods, fuck, fuck…’_

“Good let’s get this over with with.” Jan let himself follow the voice and saw a man in gold legion armor, and some Altmer in black coats, all on horses. 

‘ _Thalmor.’_ Jan thought. That was just fucking perfect.

The brown haired man began muttering to himself. Praying, perhaps. 

"Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor.” The blond seemed to spit every word, venom in his voice, “And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves.” Really? Jan was sitting right here. “I bet they had something to do with this.” 

And on that note, Jan decided to zone out and attempt not to vomit from anxiety and fear(which was becoming markably difficult by the second), and possibly try to think of a way out of this.

The cart rolled to a stop, and one of the soldiers yelled for all the prisoners to get out of the carts. Everybody stood, and whilst Jan panicked and screamed inside their own head the brown haired man started protesting and yelling.

Jan didn’t catch what he said (as he was a bit busy panicking), but he felt he could relate to the man in this moment. 

When they were all off the cart, Jan at the back of the group. They felt they probably stood out, as they were in fact a chubby Altmer in torn up mage robes surrounded by nords. 

The thought made them relax. A little bit. They were probably still going to die, oh gods…

An imperial woman in imperial plate shouted, “Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time.” 

“Empire loves their damn lists.” said the blond guy who never seemed to shut up. Jan still didn’t know his name. Maybe he’d said it earlier while Jan was zoning out…

A man in a basic soldiers uniform began calling names.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.”

“Ralof, of Riverwood.” The blond stepped off towards the block.

“Lokir, of Rorikstead.” 

Lokir looked on the outside how Jan felt on the inside. His eyes were practically bugged out of his skull, he was sweating buckets despite the rather bitter wind, and when he no longer so much spoke as he did screech. 

“No, I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” he screeched, and then sprinted off as fast as his skinny legs could take him.

“Halt!” The imperial captain shouted.

“You won’t kill me!” Lokir shouted, likely very wrong.

“Archers!” Several soldiers drew their bows and let arrows fly.

Jan heard the thud of the arrows as they punched through Lokir’s body, and he fell to the ground.

Jan stared at Lokir’s corpse, bug-eyed and so tense they thought they would snap their bindings, or their arms.

“Anyone else feel like running?” the captain shouted, snapping Jan back to attention. 

“Wait.” the calling soldier said. “You there, step forward.”

Jan did, and now that the crowd was gone, got a good look at the man shouting out the names.

He was a handsome sort (Jan was surprised he could even notice that given the circumstances), very broad and muscular, with brown hair. Definitely a nord. 

“Who… are you?” he seemed very confused. 

Jan made a series of choking sounds, before managing to get out, “J-j-jan.”

“You’re not with the Thalmor Embassy, are you, high elf?” He asked, then shook his hair and muttered, “No, that can’t be right…”

He looks back to his superior, “Captain, what should we do? He’s not on the list.” 

‘ _Oh thank the gods,’_ Jan thought, _‘maybe they’ll-’_

“Forget the list.” She commanded curtly. “He goes to the block.”

What.

What.

WHAT!?

Jan’s mind seemed to haze over, and as the next few moments passed, they were disturbingly calm.

When the red-haired nord walked up to the block, his gruff shouting seemed to be miles away. The thwack of the axe against his neck was muffled, barely audible, in Jan’s ears. 

As his head rolled into the basket, the executioner pushed his body off to the side with his foot. 

The captain pointed at Jan, and miles away they heard a muffled command. 

Then, the air shook, and Jan heard a roar. Their trance was broken. Panic summoned back up in their gut, and Jan felt like they were going to vomit on the soil, collapse, or both. 

“See, there it is again!” said the man who had not, in fact, called Jan’s name, as he was not on the kill list.

“I said. Next. Prisoner.” the Captain ordered angrily. 

“To the block prisoner, nice and easy.” The brunette soldier said, almost kindly. 

Jan shuffled slowly over to the block, their throat full of bile. A hand forced them down onto their knees, and then a metal boot pressed against their back, forcing their face and neck against the cold stone, still slick with the blood of the red haired man.

Jan had a view of the sky, and of the headsman as he prepared, stretching and placing himself.

Then, there was another roar, and it was much closer. The air vibrated, Jan’s heart sped up. The sound was almost… familiar to them.

“What in oblivion is that?!” A grizzled voice shouted, as a great black beast flew into Jan’s sight and then out again.

“Sentries, what do you see?” The captain who’d damned Jan to death shouted.

Meanwhile, the headsman continued on as a massive beast flew through the air, unperturbed by the shouting of others.

In some far-off, cheeky part of Jan’s mind, they made a comment about the mans dedication to his job.

And then the beast landed on the tower directly in front of jan, behind the headsman. The impact shook the ground all around, throwing the headsman off his feet.

And then the dragon roared.


	2. Safe, for a moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadvar and Jan interact. Hadvar is mildly confused.   
> Jan is a bit miffed.

“By the gods, was that really a dragon? Bringers of the end times?” Hadvar was breathing heavily, speaking more to himself than the elven prisoner who’d followed him into the keep. 

The elf offered no commentary, simply panting and glancing back at the door as though the dragon would come bursting through it at any moment. Hadvar took a moment to look at the Altmer.

The elf was an odd sight, particularly in comparison to other High Elves Hadvar had met. This one was much shorter, just under six feet. They were still fairly tall, but they weren’t Altmer tall. They were chubby, with what looked like a very soft belly and thick thighs.

They had brown hair, short in the back with long bangs in the front that were swept out of their eyes, whereas most Altmer Hadvar knew of had light hair- blond, or even white. 

Their facial features were softer than most altmer he’d seen, with an oval shaped face and a rounder chin as opposed to the punch-through-plate mail chins he was used to seeing.

Though, admittedly, he hadn’t seen a lot of Altmer. Perhaps he should stop thinking about the elves features and focus on getting out of Helgen.

“Come here, let me get those bindings off.” He gestured towards the Altmer and pulled out his dagger. They quickly got close and present their wrists, looking up at him expectantly with dark orange eyes. Hadvar grabbed their forearms and cut the ropes, letting their hands free.

Hadvar could see the elf had soft hands- it looked like they probably hadn’t done a day of labor in their life. The elf wrung their wrists and stretched their fingers, looking around at the room.

“You look for some equipment. I’m going to see if I can find anything for these burns.” Hadvar turned around, and went over to the chest by the bed. He checked the one by the first bed, ripping it open to find nothing. 

“Damn…” he muttered. The burns on his arms stung like a bastard, and it seemed even worse now that he had nothing to alleviate it. He stood up, and looked around to the Altmer, who was sitting on top of a chest over in the opposite corner of the room.

They were wearing a pair of imperial boots and had strapped an iron sword to their hip. They looked very miffed as they examined the robes they’d come in wearing. The mantle was singed, as were the sleeves, and the entire thing was filthy, as though they’d just been rolling around in dirt in ash.

Which they had. Running from the dragon.

Hadvar checked the other chest, but all that was in there was a light helmet and a sack with some gold in it. Nothing very useful, but he took it anyway.

He sighed and turned around, “Here, take this.” he tossed the helmet and coin purse at the elf, who barely caught them.

The elf pocketed the gold, but looked at the helmet and said, “I’m not wearing this.” Their accent sounded… familiar. From Cyrodil, maybe? 

“Why not?” Hadvar asked.

“It’s too thin to do anything and will make me feel constrained.” they turned it over in their hands. “This thing couldn’t block a fork.”

Hadvar snorted, but he supposed it was true. Imperial leather helms aren’t exactly known for for being all that effective.

“You didn’t find anything for your burns, then?” The altmer asked.

“Er, no but…” 

“C’mere then.” the elf gestured him over. Hadvar hesitated, and the elf sighed irritably. “C’mon. I’m not gonna bite.”

Hadvar went over to them, and the elf grabbed his arms, observing his burns. He then lifted his other hand, which suddenly bloomed with golden light, and held it above Hadvar’s arms.

Where the light flowed was pleasantly warm, and Hadvar fet invigorated. He watched, a bit in awe, as the flesh on his arms healed, and in a few moments was looked as though it had never been injured at all- no burn scars, no discoloration, it was just as it had been before he’d been injured.

Hadvar almost gave the elf his other arm, but noticed that the burns there had healed as well. The elf stood up and pulled a rucksack out of the chest, which they dumped the helmet into.

“Where’d you get that?”

“It was in the chest.” the elf said. “Might as well make use of it.” The elf threw it over there shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get going…” The elf paused, and then looked puzzled.

“What?”

“I don’t know your name.” he stated.

“Oh.” Hadvar said, before realizing, “I don’t know your name either. 

The elf looked incredulous. “I told you my name!”

Hadvar felt his face flush. “Oh. Really?”

“You asked me who I was!” the elf said, then sighed. “I’m Jan. You asked me that before you unlawfully sent me to the block.” Jan crossed their arms and- was he pouting? “I hope your captain gets fired by the way.”

“By the legion or the dragon?” Hadvar asked.

“Either works.” Jan shrugged. “So… what’s your name?”

“Hadvar.” 

“Yeah. You look like a Hadvar.” Jan said, then grinned. “So, wanna get going? We’ve been sitting here for like five minutes.”

“You’re not going to put on any armor?” Hadvar asked. Jan should probably put armor on, even if he was a mage it would do well to have some protection. 

“It doesn’t fit.” Jan glanced at the chest, where the armor presumably was. “I think it was made for someone who was five foot six and hadn’t an ounce of fat on their body.” 

Jan walks past Hadvar to the door, then points at the chain hanging next to it. “Pull that, right?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Jan says, and pulls the chain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Jan knows various spells the Dovahkiin does not at the beginning of the story due to their own personal history.  
> If it makes you feel better, Jan barely knows how to use a sword.  
> Also, there's a reason Jan looks different from most other Altmer. It'll be explained later.


	3. Just... Just no. NO.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jan is not dealing with this. This is bullshit.
> 
> NO.

Going through Helgen keep had been hell, but Jan could handle that. Sure, they had to kill people and would probably hear their dying screams in his nightmares for the rest of his life, but hey! It was either them or Jan. They had to fight, or the Stormcloaks would have killed the two of them.

But this? No.

No. He would not accept this.

Fucking. Giant. Spiders. No.

“You can go down and fight those yourself, I AM NOT GOING DOWN THERE.” Jan whisper-shouted at Hadvar, wary to alerting the spiders of their presence. 

Hadvar sighed and pressed his hand against his brow. “Jan, they’re just-“

“GIANT. FUCKING. SPIDERS.” they gestured down the tunnel with every whisper-shouted word. “I don’t give a shit if they’re weak- I don’t care if they’d die If I breathed on them, they are god damn TERRIFYING, and I am going no where near those abominations!” 

“Fine, fine,” Hadvar relented, “Just shoot Ice spikes at them from a distance, I’ll go down. Try not to hit me.”

Jan relaxed quite a bit at that, and lifted their hands to prep their spells. “Don’t worry, I’m a good shot.”

Hadvar drew his blade, and slowly proceeded down to the opening where the spiders were. Even from this distance Jan could tell that they were some of the most disgusting and downright terrifyingly large spiders they’d ever seen.

Hadvar made a signal that showed which one he was going for, and Jan prepped to launch an Ice spike into one of the others.

Hadvar charged, and two more, even bigger and more disgusting creatures droppe from the ceilings. He killed one of the smaller ones with a single swing of his blade, and Jan let an ice spike fly into another. 

The ‘battle’ was over before long, one of the bigger ones so full of ice it may very well have been twice it’s original body weight, and the others cut up into little pieces, oozing goo over the stone.

Jan slowly proceeded down, glancing about to ensure there were no more spiders.

Hadvar looked a bit nonplussed, covered in spider-goo as he was. It looked to have gotten everywhere- on his boots, on his armor, on his legs, on his arms, and a little streak on his face.

“You’ve… uh… got a little somethin’ there.” Jan said. They pulled a piece of fabric out of a pocket in their robes. “Here.” Hadvar took the piece and wiped the smear of goo from his face. He attempted to give the piece back, but… no. 

“Keep it.” Jan said, “I’d just burn it. Come on, let’s go.”

They walked down another tunnel into a much larger section of cave. The air was damp and cool, and there was a little waterfall leading into a tiny, shallow creek, which made gentle lapping noises. A little bridge went over the creek to the other side.

“Think you can wash off in the waterfall?” Jan asked. 

“I’d rather not die of hypothermia.” Hadvar said. 

The both of them crossed over the creek. On the other side of the creek, a little lantern was lit near a tiny vegetable cart. The vegetable cart was full of wine. 

 _‘Why. Why is there a cart full of wine in a cave. This makes no sense.’_ Jan thought, glancing into the cart. They grabbed one of the bottles of repugnant liquid, and saw something at the bottom of the cart. They reached further down, and pulled out a full sack of coins.

“Nice. Hey, Hadvar look-”

“Shh!” Hadvar shushed them, and he had crouched down. “Over there!”

“What are you-” Jan turned around and saw exactly what. 

There was a bear. But not just any bear; a big cave bear, surrounded by bones. Light shone on creature as though it were some kind of treasure of the gods, and Jan did not want to get involved with the bear. Thankfully, the creature seemed to be dozing, facing away from the pair and unaware of their presence. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I’d rather not tangle with her right now-bears are a bit tougher than what we’ve been fighting.” Hadvar drew the bow from his back. “Of course, we could always try and take it by surprise.”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. Come on, lets go around it.”

The two snuck slowly across the stone, and the squeaking of their boots, Hadvar’s armor, and the rustling of Jan’s robes all seemed a thousand times louder than they normally were. Jan kept nervously glancing towards the bear every few seconds to make sure it wasn’t about to charge them, a slow trickle of sweat making its way down their forehead.

When they finally got out of range of the bear, Jan let out a breath they didn’t know they’d been holding.

“Come on, let’s go!” Hadvar said, and raced on ahead. Jan jogged up behind him, feeling a chilly breeze brush across their cheeks. 

An opening to the outside. Bright light streamed inside and wisps of snow flowed in. Jan grinned and ran full speed through the caves threshold into the sunlight.

They took a deep breath of the , mind-bogglingly happy to be out of that stupid fucking cave and not decapitated. But then Jan got an odd feeling. It was a bit like an… itch in the back of their brain. 

“Wait, get down!” Hadvar shouted at him, ducking behind a rock. Jan joined him, before seeing the massive black dragon that had attacked Helgen fly off into the distance, roaring in a way that seemed almost triumphant.

Hadvar sighed and smiled, standing back up. “I don’t think it saw us, thank the gods.”

“I don’t think it would have cared if it did. It’s probably full by now.” Jan said. 

“Maybe.” Hadvar said, and turned to Jan smiling. “Thank you, I doubt I would have made it out if it weren’t for you.”

Jan felt their face warm up and rubbed the back of their head with their hand. “Oh, um, it was no big deal. You helped me out a lot too.”

Hadvar began to walk down the path before them, and Jan walked alongside them. “I’m going to head to my uncles home in riverwood to restock before I go back to Solitude. Feel free to stop by- I’m sure he’ll help you out.”

“Nice, I’ll be sure to do that…” Jan trailed off, wondering where the hell riverwood was, and where the hell they were right now. 

“We should probably split up-“

“No.” Jan interrupted him. “I have no idea where I am or where to go, I have no supplies and no map. So… I think I’ll tag along with you.” They paused, realizing that was remarkably pushy, and turned their head away, “If that’s alright.”

“No, it’s fine.” he said quickly. “It’s probably for the best actually. We could both probably use some rest.”

The two of them walked along, chatting amicably until they hit they hit a road they could start to follow.

“We’re actually really close to riverwood from here. I recognize this stretch of road.” Hadvar stated.

“That’s good… how close are we, exactly?” Jan questioned. They weren’t used to doing this much walking, and they were fucking tired from all this running and fighting. 

“If we follow this road, we should be there in a few minutes.” Hadvar said, then started walking again.

“So…” Jan began, “are you from riverwood?”

“Not originally, but I might as well be.” Hadvar answered. “I moved there to live with my uncle when I was just a boy, maybe three or four, after my mother and father both died fighting in the war with the Aldmeri Dominion.” 

Oh. That’s um. Shit. “Sorry about that. Must have been hard.” 

“It’s no big deal. But.” He paused. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re like, nine years older than me though.” Jan said.

“What, really?”

Jan nodded. “Nine or eight.”

Hadvar paused, before asking, “Where are you from, exactly?”

“I’m from Chorrol. It’s one of the cities in cyrodil, off to the east of the Imperial City.” he said, “You know, the one with the big fucking tree.”

Hadvar grinned, looking oddly smug for a moment, before asking, “What was it like?”

Jan frowned, furrowing their brow and looking ahead. “I’d rather not talk about it, I’m too tired right now. Maybe after I’ve gotten some sleep.”

“Alright, maybe we could-” Hadvar began, before a sharp howl was heard, and the two were attacked by wolves. 

The animals were quickly taken care of, and the two lightly jogged to riverwood in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Generally speaking, Jan's magic skills at this point would be roughly apprentice level across the board at the moment.  
> Though they lack any skill with armor or weapons.  
> Just for references sake.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written anything, so I'm gonna need some time to get back into the groove of things.  
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
